Tale of a Doll

"Oooh look at all of it! There's bound to be a treasure or two in there!" Celia exclaimed, practically bouncing in the front seat.

She and her sister had been scouring garage sales all that Saturday morning, but the pickings were slim. After driving all over town, they'd only found four worth looking at, until now. With an air of triumph, they parked on the street and dashed up the sidewalk to the large yellow house on Parlor Dr. where a spread of tables was set up and holding enough inventory to fill a shop.

Celia excitedly pointed from one thing to another - from an antique copper-colored lace dress and the matching costume jewelry, to fully intact board games that looked to be in mint condition despite being at least fifty years old, to a hoard of old 45 records, and every kind of gadget, knick-knack, or kitsch décor imaginable.

"Jill! Look at thi... Jill? What are you doing?"

As she approached her sister, a momentary pause overcame Celia upon seeing her older sibling's eyes. They were wide... aghast... and she was trembling slightly. Very slowly, she laid a gentle hand on Jill's arm to steady her.

"Hey," Celia asked in a concerned tone, "what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong?"

But those words would not come. She couldn't speak them, not yet.

"Celia, did you see the homeowner?"

"Yes, she's right up the drive there, the one in the red cardigan."

Without another word, Jill marched towards the woman in red with a conviction that startled her sister who stumbled trying to catch her. The owner smiled warmly, seemingly unaware of the marching woman's demeanor.

"Well, hello there!" the owner cooed in an eerie, almost sing-song-like voice. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Jill let loose a shaky breath.

"I know this is going to sound like a strange question, but are these all your things?"

"Mine? Oh goodness, no!" the owner laughed, "I only just inherited the house from my dear nana. Most of this stuff was hers. She never threw anything away," she heaved a sigh, "so here I am! She took excellent care of all her things though, you'd never know how old some of it is!"

Jill reared back slightly, a puzzled look overcoming her face. She had just turned fifty-eight a month ago, and this woman looked to be at least her own grandmother's age were she living, meaning "nana" had to have been well over a hundred years old, upwards of a hundred and twenty.

Possible? Possibly.

Probable? Really highly unlikely.

She decided to mentally pin that question for after.

"I, um... I have a question about an item," Jill began carefully guarding the chaotic emotions from her voice, "on that table by the tree, you have a doll..."

"Oh! Let's go take a look!" and off sped the cardigan lady towards the table with Jill following cautiously behind her.

Up to this point, Celia had remained silent. She looked at the table in question, covered in cloth dolls and doll pieces. Clearly, someone enjoyed quite the hobby of making them. As she approached the table behind her sister and the homeowner, she took a moment to marvel at the craftsmanship. No two were alike. Each had different clothing and features, and a handwritten name tag, very much the kind of thing one would expect to see with the description "made with love," but something wasn't sitting right, despite initial appearances.

"These were all handmade by my nana. She took great pride in her creations, you know," the owner regaled.

The look Jill shot her spoke otherwise, confusing Celia even more.

Slowly, Jill approached one cloth doll made of faded floral print material in an awkward sitting position with flluffy black hair and rounded button eyes. It was wearing a dress made of pilled, old looking green felt, very unlike the other dolls it sat with. One leg was slightly shorter than the other, causing it to lean slightly to the side. Attached to its right hand was, what appeared to be, a little black book.

She pointed at the askew doll.

"Where did she get that one from?" Jill sternly inquired, surprising Celia.

The owner shook her head, baffled, "I just told you, she made them all. That one has had a little more love, obviously, but it's... why are you asking?"

“No," Jill responded gravely, "not that one. She didn't make that one. Where... where did she get that doll?"

Celia was looking back and forth between the owner and her sister frantically, still not understanding.

"Jill, let's not be rude, please?" she laughed nervously, "If she said her grandmother made them all, then tha..."

Jill cut her off.

"She didn't make that one."

"Listen, young lady, my name is Dorothea Weathers. My grandmother was also Dorothea Weathers. I'm named after her. She used to sell some of her dolls down at the craft store to make a little extra money. You can check the store records... Maybe you saw another like this one?"

"NO!" Jill wailed, throwing her hands around her ears and squeezing her eyes of angry tears.

"I know she didn't, because I made that doll, that exact doll..."

Dorothea looked puzzled.

"Well then, she must have bought at some point. Surely you must have sold it?"

"... and I nestled in the blanket I buried my dead infant daughter in almost forty years ago! So I'm going to ask one more time before I call the police... Where did you get it?"

Jill was seething, tears streaming from her eyes down her reddened taught face as she awaited the reply.

Celia was in shock, listening to this exchange. Jill had always said she was never able to have children. There was never talk of a pregnancy, let alone a birth. She and Jill had never hidden secrets from one another, or so she had thought.

"Jill?" Celia quietly asked in a shuddering breath, pointing at the doll, trying to force logic into the situation. "The book... did you write a dedication or anything?"

The older sister snapped her attention back to the doll, hastily picking it up and touching the book cover. Fresh tears rolled hot down her cheeks as the grief hit her anew all over again. She touched the stitching she messed up trying to hurriedly sew the stuffing hole closed. She touched the too-big stitches holding the felt dress in place that she accidentally sewed into the body. It was unmistakably the doll she had raced to put together before her daughter's funeral.

"Yes, I did," she finally responded hesitantly. "I wrote her name and 'mommy loves you 4 ever and around again' in two little pages."

Very gingerly, she opened the book the doll held, not wanting to damage the paper that surely had to be brittle as bones by now.

Then, her breath caught in her throat as her hand flew to her mouth.

The first page and half the other did state as she had said, still legible and intact.

But on the latter half of the second page at the bottom was a single word that appeared burned into the paper:

"Now"

"Wh... what is this? What game are you playing at?"

Jill sunk to her knees on the lawn, clutching the doll and sobbing.

Dorothea's face changed from sweet to stone-faced for the merest moment. She called over to her granddaughters who were helping with the yard sale to let them know she was going to be busy for a bit, and after assuring them all was well and sending them back to the main tables, she turned to address Celia.

"I think you both should come inside for a moment. Help your sister, and come with me. We have things to discuss."

"How did you know we're sisters? We didn't tell you..." Celia was genuinely frightened now, but did as requested and helped Jill to stand and follow Dorothea into the house.

Once inside her home, she led the pair into the main living room and had them sit on a beautiful, and clearly antique, red velvet sofa, taking a seat directly across on an ornately decorated chair of red satin.

"Now then," their not-quite gracious host began, "it seems we have a bit of a problem, and some answers are in order. First, I want to assure you both that no harm was ever meant. But sometimes unusual measures have to b..."

Celia cut her off this time.

"No harm? What the hell does that mean? What? Did... did you dig up her grave? What could you possibly..."

The ring of the phone made the two sisters jump out of their skins.

"I'm so sorry, a moment, please. This is important."

They watched her movements become rigid and heard her voice go terse, but neither could understand what language Dorothea had switched to. The only thing they understood was something that sounded like "ja" with a head nod. Then she hung up.

Looking thoughtful a moment, she smiled and composed herself, writing something on a piece of paper and sliding it to them - a phone number.

"A... slight change of plans. I'm afraid I have to go meet with someone, but I'll be back this evening. I will call you from that number. Until then..."

Opening a drawer in the coffee table before her, Dorothea produced a small, ornately carved wooden box, and slid it to them as well.

The sisters looked on in confusion.

"If you'll open that, you'll find $20,000 as a... hmm. Well, I suppose it is a bribe, now isn't it? Please don't call any authorities, and just await my phone call. I promise there's more to all of this than what you're probably thinking. I... we... are not graverobbers. That doll you're holding never saw a casket. I must leave, but you have my word, all will be explained shortly. Do we have a deal?"

Jill and Celia stared at one another.

The doll...

She knew they were related...

The unexplained message in the little black book...

... and now $20,000 in what amounted to hush money?

They were not special or famous, and didn't have ties to anyone of that measure either. Everything happening so fast was causing them both to reel from the onslaught of... everything.

A silent agreement passed between them as they turned towards their host once again.

For now, they'd wait.

"Deal. One moment," Jill stated quietly.

Taking out her cellphone, she dialed the number on the paper and Dorothea's phone rang.

"There, now you have my number to call."

Their host chuckled while tapping something on her phone.

"That was quite unnecessary, but thank you for the courtesy. Now, I suggest you both go home until you hear from me. Oh, and you can take the doll with you. Free of charge."

The smile that played on the older woman's lips no longer looked so sweet, and neither wanted to stay in that house a moment longer.

Without a goodbye, they picked up the box with the money and the paper, and left.

… and from the top bedroom window overlooking the street, a shadowed figure watched the two sisters make their way to their car and drive off.